


Graceful Meeting

by dragon_with_a_teacup



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Banter, Emerhy, Fashion & Couture, First Meetings, Flirting, Flustered Rhy, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_with_a_teacup/pseuds/dragon_with_a_teacup
Summary: Rhy sets out to charm the rich and powerful, but ends up getting charmed himself. My idea of how our prince and our privateer might have met before the events of the Shades of Magic trilogy.





	Graceful Meeting

“That outfit is absurd.”

Rhy adjusted the fall of his cape across his shoulders, peering into the mirror with an appraising eye. The color of the garment complemented the rest of his outfit quite well, if he did say so himself. “Since when are you a fashion expert?”

Lounging on Rhy’s couch, Kell scowled. “Honestly,” he continued, ignoring Rhy’s question, “a cape?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s a bit… much.”

Rhy raised his eyebrows and spun in a circle, so the amethyst fabric swirled about him. The silver accents on it gleamed as he did so. The rest of the outfit, vaguely evocative of a military jacket with silver piping and buttons, was striking as well, if he did say so himself. He grinned when he came to a halt, facing his brother. “Then it suits me, doesn’t it?”

“Is Father going to approve of this?” Kell gestured. “Wouldn’t he rather you wear—”

“Red? As always?” Rhy sighed. “Probably. Wants me to always be representing the throne.”

“Well, you are the prince.”

“But wearing red and gold all the time gets boring. Besides, it’s a party, not a diplomatic liaison.”

“We are meeting a group of ambassadors from Vesk,” Kell pointed out. “So there is diplomacy involved.”

Rhy waved a dismissive hand. “It’s still a party.” He strode over to the couch, grabbed Kell’s hands, and pulled him upright. “Come on, then. Let’s go charm the rich and powerful.”

Kell rolled his eyes.

* * *

The Jewel hall was magnificent. The crystal columns, adorned with blossoms, gleamed even more than usual, drawing the eye upwards toward the high ceilings. A hundred candles illuminated everything in a warm golden light.

Just outside the hall, Rhy tugged Kell forward, ignoring his muttered protests. “Come on, brother, cheer up. This will be fun.”

“It would probably be more fun if I didn’t feel like an exotic trinket put on display for all the royals to gawk at,” Kell muttered.

“Aww, come on, it won’t be so bad. I could have convinced Father to throw a ball for your birthday.”

“As if he’d do that.”

Rhy paused at the top of the staircase that would lead them down into the hall, where the crowd would see them enter. He turned and faced Kell. “He would if I asked him, you know.”

Kell glanced away. “I don’t need you to do that. Unlike you, I don’t want fancy parties to show off at.”

Rhy nodded. “Well, we don’t have to stay long at this one. I bet we could sneak away after about an hour. Maybe find some real fun in the city somewhere?”

“If you think I’m about to let you go out into the city tonight, dressed like that, you’re mad.”

Rhy smirked, as ever both amused and exasperated by his brother’s overprotectiveness. “We’ll see. Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

He seized Kell’s arm and tugged him along, only letting go once they reached the top of the stairs. A guard announced them, and the crowd turned and watched as they descended. Rhy grinned at his mother, who raised her eyebrows at him.

He approached her and allowed her to adjust his cape. “An unusual choice for tonight,” she commented.

“One can only wear red so many times in a month before having to take drastic measures, Mother,” he said.

She shook her head, though a small smile lingered on her lips. “Well, you do still look somewhat princely. I suppose your father and I should be grateful for that.”

He chuckled. “I always look princely.”

He kissed her cheek and moved away. A short distance across the room, his father stood, speaking to a group of _vestra_. They made eye contact. Maxim raised a brow as his gaze flicked to Rhy’s cape, but he tilted his head as if to say _well, if you insist_.

Resplendent _and_ triumphant now, Rhy moved through the room. Kell drifted away, probably to lurk near the table of food and stay away from most of the crowd. As reluctant as his older brother might be, Rhy did not mind these parties. They were the chance to show off a bit, yes, but also a chance to drink, socialize, and—hopefully—flirt.

He mingled, speaking to noble after noble. Some were still arriving, all bedecked in finery and wearing their most arrogant, haughty expressions. A few Rhy liked, but a few… not so much. Hence the drinking.

He was in the midst of avoiding a persistent woman who was uncomfortably obsessed with him when a sudden pressure on the end of his cape caused him to slip. His arms pinwheeled as he fought to keep his balance. Then, an arm came to rest on his back, steadying him.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” a voice said. Rhy turned, straightening.

He froze.

A noble stood there, dressed in deep midnight blue and silver, his hair artfully tousled. The shades of his clothes precisely matched his eyes, which seemed like living sapphires under his tawny brown hair. When those stunning eyes met Rhy’s, they widened.

“Your Highness,” he said, “I… didn’t recognize you.”

Rhy didn’t recognize him either—at least, not well enough to immediately be able to name him. He had seen him before, but somehow never spoken to him. Now, helpless under his mesmerizing gaze, he wished he had. He glanced down, hoping the man wore some sort of identifying mark.

Ah. A silver feather ring.

“Emery,” he murmured, fighting for some sort of logical response. “No harm done.”

“You are not… well, you look different.” Emery apparently still was worried Rhy was offended by nearly being tripped, judging from the way he fidgeted.

“Hopefully different in a good way,” Rhy smiled. He straightened his cape again, pulling it out of reach of Emery’s feet.

“Oh, certainly in a good way, Your Highness.” Emery smiled with a bit more confidence now, and Rhy felt his heart skip at least two beats at the sight. Heat flared in his cheeks.

“I grow weary of red and gold constantly, as I have told both my brother and my mother already tonight.”

“I can understand that.” Emery gestured at his own clothes. “My father insisted I represent our family tonight.”

“It is n-not such a bad thing. The color, it… it suits you.” Rhy swallowed, wondering at himself. Since when did he stumble over his words when faced with an attractive person?

Emery grinned. “Forgive me if I seem forward, Your Highness,” he said, “but may I get you a drink?”

Rhy’s cheeks grew even warmer, and judging by the glint in Emery’s eyes, his blush was visible. A moment passed before he found his voice again. “You may.”

Emery stepped away for a moment to retrieve two glasses from a passing server, then returned to Rhy’s side. Their fingers brushed as he handed over one of the drinks.

“Thank you,” Rhy said.

“Of course, Highness. What should we toast to?” Emery asked.

However, at that moment, Kell appeared at his side. “Rhy, the ambassadors have arrived. Father wants us to speak with them.”

He glanced at Emery, who gave a small bow. “Master Kell.”

Kell’s gaze shifted between the two of them. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Lord Emery,” he said, then tilted his head pointedly at Rhy, then back to where a trio of Veskans stood next to Rhy’s parents. He spun on his heel and strode off. However, Rhy lingered.

“Excuse me,” he said to Emery, a tinge of regret souring his tongue.

Emery pursed his lips ruefully. “Well,” he lifted his glass, “to a more graceful meeting next time.”

Rhy laughed, and Emery smiled. “Indeed.” Rhy clinked their glasses together and they drank.

“Rhy!” came Kell’s sharpish voice, in an annoyed whisper from a few steps away. Guilty, Rhy handed his glass to Emery.

“Until next time, Emery.” Rhy fought to keep the questioning tone from his voice, but suspected he failed. At least the stutter was absent this time.

Emery gave a sweeping bow—much deeper than the one he had given Kell—and as he raised his head, he winked. “Please, Your Highness. Call me Alucard.”

He turned and sauntered away. Though Kell was hissing Rhy’s name again, the prince found he could not move, transfixed, heart pounding.

Alucard Emery, he thought. Their paths may not have crossed before, but if Rhy had any say in the matter, they would in the future.


End file.
